Kitty’s War

‘Well, I’ve got an early start,’ he said at last, and turned homewards once more. ‘And you shouldn’t be out here alone with a man, even if it’s only me.’

Only him? But I wasn’t ready to go back.

‘Tell me a bit more about your uncle,’ I said quickly. ‘Jack, isn’t it?’

‘Aye, Jack Carlisle. Well, he’s my mother’s younger brother. We’ve not seen him in a good while but he writes now and again. He’s a diplomat now, attached to the army and still holds the rank of major, but he’s not on active service any more.’

‘Sounds exciting.’ It sounded nothing of the sort, but I just wanted him to keep talking.

‘Really?’ Archie looked at me, a smile tugging at his lips.

‘Does he live in Scotland too?’

‘No, he’s based in London and Liverpool mostly. And he spends most of his free time at the Creswells’ place in Cheshire.’

‘Are they rich?’

‘They are. He was apparently very close to Lord Creswell. Henry. They fought together in Africa.’

‘Unlike Father,’ I dropped in, and Archie laughed.

‘I’m not going to comment on that again. Anyway, Uncle Jack promised he’d take care of the family if Henry died in the war, which, sadly, he did. So Jack’s sort of a father figure to Henry’s two children now, and rumour has it he and Lily Creswell are a bit of an item.’

‘A happy ending,’ I said. ‘Good!’ Without thinking, I hugged his arm, then immediately let go in case he thought I’d meant anything by it. He gave me a faintly puzzled look, then accepted my withdrawal and put his hands in his pockets. We had arrived back at the house, and I had never been so displeased to see warm, welcoming lights at a window.

‘I should get to bed,’ he said. ‘I really need to be up at first light.’

Sending my body into complete turmoil, he put his hands gently on my shoulders, and dropped a kiss onto my forehead. With his jaw just inches away, it was as much as I could do not to turn my head to kiss him back, but I led the way indoors and said goodnight, making a meal of removing my coat, so he wouldn’t see how my hands still shook. I watched him from the hallway as he went in to say goodnight to my family, and then went to my own room, trying to untangle my insides and take a single deep and calming breath. I couldn’t do it. And then, as I lay there in the darkness, remembering the firmness of his lips on my skin, I decided I didn’t want to. The ache was too sweet, too new and too full of possibility to push away.

The following morning I breakfasted early, and Archie had yet to make an appearance by the time I’d finished. The meal was still sitting like a lump in my stomach and I felt as if I hadn’t chewed a single bite as I waited in the hall, pretending to be straightening my ever-annoying curls in the mirror, but every sense straining in anticipation.

At last I heard his footfall on the stairs, and my eyes went to the bag by the door before I looked up to see him for what might be the last time. He was pulling on his cap as he came round the bend in the stairs, and his uniform looked like part of him already, as though he’d been born to wear it. For a moment I had trouble recognising the Archie I’d known in this grown man, but then, as he always had as a boy, he took the last few stairs in a quick little run and was my old familiar friend again.

Watching him straighten his belt and reach for his coat, I saw the quick, assured movements of a man completely at ease, and felt some of the terror fall away; no-one who looked as comfortable and ready to go to war could possibly come to any harm. Second Lieutenant Archie Buchanan would come home safely in a month or two, having made his family, and me, the proudest we could be, and Europe would be safe thanks to him and those like him.

And then, perhaps, there would be time for us.

Chapter Three

11 November 1916

My nineteenth birthday. A chilly, grey day that nevertheless started out with a vague hope of celebration, then fell flat after breakfast, when I realised I’d be spending it completely alone, but by teatime had flung me headlong into a life I could never have imagined for myself.

Oliver had finally joined the army late last year, to our parents’ aggravation, but just before the compulsory call-up, so at least they could tell people he’d volunteered. He was stationed at Nieuport, on the Belgian coast, and had kept this rare home visit as a birthday surprise—an even more joyful one when I saw he had brought Archie with him. He stood behind Oliver, smiling at me over the top of Oli’s red curls, his own hat removed and tucked beneath his arm. When Oli had released me from an unexpected, but not unwelcome brotherly embrace, Archie took my hand.

‘Happy birthday, darling.’ He bent and kissed my cheek, and I felt my skin glow where his lips had touched, firm and warm.

‘You’ve been promoted,’ I said, accepting a hug but trying not to linger too long in his arms. ‘Congratulations, Captain Buchanan.’

‘Aye, your father’s an uncanny knack of predicting the future.’

‘Except when it comes to this little two-year “storm in a teacup”,’ I pointed out, and he grinned.

‘And how fare you, young Kittlington?’

I pulled a face. ‘Bored, I’m ashamed to say. Can we go riding while you’re here?’

‘I’d have loved to but I can only stay tonight. I’m getting the early train up to Edinburgh, and then to Fort William. Mother’s been waiting a while and she’s not inclined to wait much longer—she keeps threatening to turn up at HQ just to make sure I’m cleaning m’teeth every night!’

I laughed, and hoped he couldn’t see my ridiculous, crushing disappointment. Still, it wasn’t to be helped; family came first. Which reminded me: ‘Oliver, your timing is impeccable—did you somehow know Mother and Father would be out?’

‘They’ve left you alone on your birthday?’ Archie frowned, and I felt a rush of gratitude for his understanding. I’d spent the morning telling myself not to be silly, but it hurt anyway.

‘Really? There’s a bit of luck,’ Oli said, and clapped Archie on the back. ‘Come on, Arch, we’ve got time for some billiards before Father comes in and starts banging on.’

I followed them into the billiard room. Mother wasn’t here to admonish me, and besides Oli hadn’t been home for ages, and Archie was my friend. Why shouldn’t I talk to them?

To my pleased surprise, not even Oli gave me his patented ‘you should be off sewing things’ look, and tolerated my presence. To begin with I just listened to them talking, of things I’d never understand in a million years, I was sure. Trenches I’d heard of, of course, and seen them on the newsreels, filled with cheerfully waving boys, but I’d had no idea there was so much mud and you certainly couldn’t see it in those pictures. To hear Oli and Archie talk you’d think men lived in puddles for days at a time and never had the chance to change their socks. Archie talked of ‘near misses’ that made my fingers curl into the material of my dress, and Oli told him how a tunnel had been spotted by the enemy. Someone hadn’t stopped digging when he ought, and the Germans had heard and blown it up. The explosion, he said, rattled the windows of the nearby town, and… He caught sight of my face and stopped. I think he’d been about to say something about the men who’d been down that tunnel, but thought better of it.

‘Anyway,’ he finished, ‘that was the end of that. The sappers had to start again two days later and thirty yards farther up the line.’ He spoke as if that had been the worst of it, but I could tell by the way his and Archie’s expressions were matched in solemnity that this was far from the truth.

Archie sought to lighten the tone. ‘So, what have you been up to, Kitty? Met a nice lad yet?’

I didn’t want him to see how much that stung, so I just gave him a slightly withering look. ‘How about you—the nurses falling at your feet, I suppose?’

He chuckled. ‘Not that I’ve noticed. And thankfully I don’t come into much contact with them. You’ve never wanted to go into that profession then?’

‘I’ve done some training, but I don’t really have the temperament for putting up with the dreadful snobbery of some of those nurses. Actually I’ve noticed that myself and one or two others tend to be kept away from the patients.’

He had bent over to take his shot, and stopped, looking at me over his cue, an amused smile playing about his lips. ‘You remind me quite strongly of someone I’ve recently met,’ he said. ‘She’s an independent out there. Ambulance driver. They’re always looking for people like you.’

‘Like me?’ I found myself interested, despite the creeping horror their earlier descriptions had elicited. ‘How do you mean?’ Part of me admitted I just wanted to hear him say complimentary things, but another, bigger part, really did yearn to do some good.

‘Level-headed, healthy, sensible.’ He didn’t notice my frustration, and it took all the self-control I had not to break his billiard cue over his stupid head. Was that all he could find to say about me? ‘And,’ he went on, lining up his shot again, ‘preferably already a dab hand with the internal combustion engine, so they wouldn’t have to waste time teaching.’

‘How did you know I’d been learning that?’ I asked, slightly appeased. I was glad I hadn’t told him myself, so it couldn’t be interpreted as boastful.

‘Your brother here’s dead proud of you,’ Archie said, by way of explanation, and Oliver snorted, but then looked at me and shrugged.

‘Well, you’re quite the little mechanic, Kitty. There’s no denying it.’

There was a solid clack as the cue ball hit its target, and Archie straightened, satisfied. ‘So, what about it? Would you like to learn more and maybe think about it?’

‘Yes!’

Oliver was looking at me as if I’d just told him I planned to emigrate to Australia. ‘But you told the parents you were going to stay in England. That’s the only reason they let you train!’

‘Don’t you think it sounds perfect though?’ I pleaded, desperate to claim him to my side; Mother and Father would find much less to argue about if I had his support. ‘All that training with the Red Cross, and all I’m doing with it is cleaning floors and knitting socks!’

‘Quite right too. You’re doing valuable work right here in England. Why on earth would you want to go over to that hellhole?’

‘At least it’s nearer to you, Oli. They’re sure to take that into account.’ I turned to Archie. ‘Who would I be working with?’ It didn’t matter; I already knew I would agree to anything he suggested. If he thought I could do it, then I could. I felt a complicated thrill of fear and excitement as he explained about the ambulance base, run, until recently, by Evie, one of the Cheshire Creswells he’d mentioned before.

‘She’s not there just at the minute,’ he said. ‘She’s away home caring for her husband, who’s lost his memory. I don’t know when she’ll be back, but there are others who’d look after you ’til then. You’d be working independently, but under the guidance of the Red Cross, and attached to my own regiment, which is stationed close by. Evie’s partner, Barbara, is leaving to marry.’

I looked over at Oli, who was chalking his cue and concentrating so I couldn’t tell what he thought. ‘Oli? What do you think? I’d love to really have the chance to do something good.’

He eyed me then, and his face softened into a reluctant smile. ‘You’ll be wonderful out there, I’m sure of it. Just promise me you’ll be careful, and do as you’re told.’

I could have hugged him, but he was across the room and leaning down to take his shot. Archie had moved out of Oli’s way and was standing very close to me; it felt as if another inch would allow me to feel the warmth radiating from him and from there it would be a short step to putting my arms around him instead, and frightening him senseless. I backed away a couple of paces, just in case.

He whistled in reluctant appreciation as Oliver’s shot took him into the lead. ‘Bloody good shot, Mr Maitland, sir.’ Then he turned to me again, much to my gratification. ‘What about your parents?’

‘They’ll try and stop me, I’m sure, but I’m nineteen. There’s nothing they can do.’ Even the sixteen-year-old I’d thought so worldly seemed a child now. I had no illusions about the work I’d be doing, especially after listening to them talking earlier, but I pushed away a niggle of uncertainty; there was a duty to be done, and what could possibly happen if we were under the Red Cross?

‘You can go out and see how you get on,’ Archie was saying now. ‘Any help, even for a short while, will be invaluable out there. No-one will think badly of you if you don’t stay.’

‘Oh, I’d stay.’ Determination often got the better of good sense with me, but I had the feeling this time my confidence was well founded.

Archie’s smile of approval convinced me further. ‘When can you come?’

‘When can I start?’

He laughed. ‘It’ll take a month or so, but as soon as I get back I’ll talk to Lieutenant Colonel Drewe about arranging your documents.’

And, just like that, everything changed.

Flanders, Belgium, December 1916

The lorry was empty but for myself, and my rather forlorn-looking suitcase, by the time we reached the little cottage known only as Number Twelve. The girls I’d travelled with from England had all disembarked at the hospital in Furnes, where they were greeted by a harried-looking sister and whisked away to change even before the driver had restarted the lorry.

I was not treated to even that dubious pleasure; the cottage stood apparently derelict, and as the driver lifted my bag down I wondered if we’d come to the right place. Suddenly sure we had not, I turned to say as much, but he had already climbed back behind the steering wheel, and before I could summon the words: ‘wait a moment!’ he was driving away, over the pitted and uneven road, back towards Furnes.

If the cottage seemed deserted, that road was not. Ambulances creaked and roared, coughing their way towards the large clearing station up the road, and the empty ones rattled past them towards Pervyse, where the driver had told me heavy fighting was taking place. That was where the Baroness de T'Serclaes and young Mairi Chisholm were, and I couldn’t help feeling a little excited despite the gnawing fear. I wondered if we would see them, or even be called upon to help them—their work was famous at home, and their bravery the stuff of legend. Everyone I knew still called them Mrs Knocker and Miss Chisholm, but the newspapers called them The Madonnas of Pervyse—I could hardly believe they were so close by.

During the long drive from the ferry, even when we’d drawn closer to the fighting, I’d heard cracks and distant booms that didn’t sound as if they could be signalling any real danger to me personally, but as I turned back now to the ancient-looking cottage, in the hopes of seeing some sign of life, a tremendous roar seemed to suck the breath out of me, and I dropped to my knees and tucked my head down.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ a voice said. It sounded faintly amused, but friendly enough, and I lifted my head to see a slender, attractive girl with very blonde hair cut raggedly short. She held out her hand, both to pull me to my feet, and by way of introduction.

‘I’m Evie Davies,’ she said. ‘I only got back myself two days ago. You must be Katherine Maitland.’

‘Kitty,’ I said, and shook her proffered hand. She wasn’t at all what I expected; something had put a picture in my mind of a tall, capable-looking woman with a loud voice and a no-nonsense attitude. This girl looked hardly older than myself, and had smiling blue eyes and a clear voice. Well spoken, but with none of the ‘frightfully Home Counties’ accent I disliked so much, and which Mother seemed determined to adopt over our own north-western tones.

‘I thought you’d be here a week or so ago,’ she said, ‘but I’m glad to be able to welcome you myself. I’ve only been back a day. Anne and Elise have gone back to their usual billet.’

‘There was a hold-up with my parents,’ I explained. ‘They’re not overly keen on me being here, I’m afraid.’

‘We’ll take good care of you. They needn’t worry.’ She saw me looking at her hair, and ran her hand through it, heedless of the grease and oil on her fingers. ‘Dreadful, isn’t it? I dare say I look an absolute fright.’

I wanted to say it actually suited her face rather well, but she pressed on. ‘Lice are a terrible problem. I hope you’ll be spared the need to do this, but be prepared for it. I’ll check you every day, if you like.’

The notion of someone checking me for lice gave me a further jolt, but I tried not to look horrified. ‘Thank you.’ I combed my fingers through my own red curls and hoped for the best, but if I had to cut them off I would, without hesitation. I wouldn’t look anywhere near as boyishly pretty as Evie, but who was there to care here? The driver had told me Archie’s headquarters were just a few miles to the east of Number Twelve, but he might as well be in France for all the chance I had of seeing him. Oli had applied to be transferred to Dixmude as well, and would soon learn if the request had been approved, but even so I’d rarely see him either. I was here to do a job, not to be coddled, and I pulled myself straight and fixed my mind on here and now, pushing daydreams to the back of my mind.

Evie sloshed her way through the icy mud to the ambulance, and I followed. ‘We’ve only got the one bus at the moment,’ she said, opening up the flap at the back. ‘Boxy and I saved up and brought her over, but we’re hoping for another one soon—we’ve raised some donations, and the Red Cross back home are awfully keen to help where they can. Meet Gertie.’

‘Gertie?’

‘Haven’t you seen that postcard? The one with the pig?’ I shook my head. ‘Well anyway, Boxy said the ambulance snorted like a pig, and we should paint her pink.’

‘She sounds fun,’ I ventured.

‘Oh, she is. We got on terribly well right from the off. As shall we, I’m sure,’ she assured me, giving my already frozen hand a squeeze. ‘Now, let’s get you settled in, and I can tell you a little bit about what we do.’ She gave me an encouraging smile, but her eyes seemed distant, as if her thoughts were anywhere but here. I remembered what I’d been told about her husband, and wondered if he was back with his unit, or if he’d even regained his memory…but she would surely not be here if he hadn’t. I couldn’t imagine how she felt, knowing he was back in the lines. Archie spent a lot of time in the field with his men, but it was so much easier to think of him sitting at HQ with the other officers, discussing tactics, than out there facing the kind of explosions that had just driven me to my knees.

I followed Evie into the cottage, a tiny two-roomed affair. ‘We’ll share the bedroom,’ she said. ‘There are two beds, but luckily they’re very narrow so there’s room to get between them to dress. You’ll sleep in your clothes most nights anyway, especially during winter. Have you got a flea bag?’

‘A…a what?’

‘For sleeping in.’

‘Oh, no, I haven’t.’

‘We’ll see what we can find for you,’ she said. ‘It’ll probably leave a lot to be desired in the hygiene department, but extra layers are not to be sneezed at.’ She grinned, looking like a grubby child for a moment. ‘And speaking of sneezing, you’ll be doing plenty of that, too.’

It seemed as if having me to show around, to explain things to and put at my ease, was helping her too. She made us both a very welcome cup of cocoa, and as she talked about the work, and what we were and were not permitted to do, she gradually lost the slightly dazed and distant look and I began to see the real Evie beneath—resilient, determined and with a sense of adventure that could barely be suppressed, even here. Even as she spoke, the guns were continuing their raucous shout, and I flinched more than once, but she didn’t seem to notice them.

‘Don’t they ever stop?’ I asked, wondering how on earth we were supposed to sleep.

‘Occasionally.’ She sobered a little then. ‘It’s not always a good thing when they do though; it means the bombardment’s stopped and our boys are ready to go out and try to regain some ground.’

‘And do they?’

‘The Front has barely moved in two and a half years. A few miles, that’s all.’

I considered that for a moment, and looked around me, trying to imagine having lived here all that time. How much longer could it go on?

But I was starting to learn already, that Evie would not be solemn or reflective for long. ‘Come on then,’ she said briskly, standing up. She put her mug by the tiny sink. ‘I’ll show you the cellar.’

I jumped up too, eager to show my enthusiasm, but as I reached out to pick up my own half-finished cocoa I knocked the cup over, and sent brown muck spreading across the table.

‘Oh! I’m so sorry,’ I said, looking around for a cloth. She tossed me the greasy rag from her belt and I mopped up the drink, blushing furiously at my clumsiness. She didn’t even blink as I tried again, and this time knocked the rolling cup to the floor. Luckily it was tin, and bounced instead of breaking.

Within a day I had earned the nickname that would stay with me for as long as Evie and I knew each other. We’d had word that a convoy was expected at the station and I was to stay behind and ready the cellar, while Evie took Gertie and fetched out those men whose wounds might be treated easily here instead of weighing down the clearing stations and hospitals. We’d just had a hastily thrown-together shepherd’s pie for dinner and I was clearing the plates, my heart thundering with renewed fear at the loudness of the guns now night had fallen. I turned from the table towards the sink, and, failing to notice Evie standing behind me buttoning her greatcoat, I cannoned into her. She staggered sideways, barely keeping her feet, and the plates crashed to the floor. They were the last of the crockery that had been left in the cottage before it had been evacuated, and Evie looked at the sharp-edged and useless pieces with a little sigh of disappointment.

Then she looked back at me, and to my enormous relief her mouth stretched into a grin. ‘Everything’s going down like ninepins since you’ve arrived. Going to have to start calling you Skittles.’

I closed my mouth, which had been hanging open in a kind of wordless and disbelieving dismay, and Evie kicked the pieces of china out of sight under the table and wiped the gravy off her coat with her sleeve. She flashed me a bright smile, jerked her head towards the cellar, and went out into the night alone. I knew then that, no matter how awful the job I’d be doing, Evie Davies was exactly the kind of person I’d want to be doing it with.

In February the Clearing Station just up the road from our ambulance base was badly hit by shellfire. Even after everything I’d seen and been horrified by in the past two months, that had a profound effect on me, that somewhere so clearly marked with the red cross of a recognised medical facility might be deliberately targeted; was there a line that must not be crossed? And if so, where was it?

In the meantime Oliver had still been trying to arrange his transfer to Dixmude, and it was only this that had persuaded our furious Father to abandon his intention of travelling out here to pull me back to Blighty by my hair. He’d managed it just a couple of days ago, and on the day after the Clearing Station was hit, he arrived in a general staff car with a friendly lieutenant colonel named Drewe, and, to my breathless delight, Archie.

We chatted for a while, although my nerves had resurfaced at the sight of a ‘brass hat’ in our little cottage, but Archie and Evie seemed to notice this and, between them, put me at my ease again. I watched Archie across the table as he chatted, and noticed new lines on his face I hadn’t seen before, but he looked completely at ease here, and I gathered he’d been a regular visitor in the past—I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, and saw his eyes linger on Evie a little more than I liked.

But she was deeply in love with her husband; I knew that. They talked about him today, and I was able to piece together what I hadn’t felt able to ask Evie since I’d arrived: Private Will Davies had become detached from his battalion last summer, during the battle of High Wood, and reported missing, and Archie had been the one to bring him home. Evidently he’d been risking his life to do so, and although the pride I took in his courage felt wrong, I enjoyed it anyway.

Sadly Will’s return to physical health was apparently not reflected in his emotional healing, and I gathered he and Evie were struggling. Oli, the great clot, ventured to say he was glad to hear that Will was back in active service, but Evie’s uncharacteristically cool reply ended that conversation, and we sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute before I turned the subject around to why Evie did not wear a wedding ring. It seemed important to remind myself that she was married, and, although I disliked myself for thinking it, to remind Archie of that, too. Conversation moved on to my driving, and I felt bad for those unformed but suspicious thoughts, as Evie praised me with real warmth.

‘You’re more than ready to make the night run yourself now, Kitty.’

Gratified that Archie was there to hear her praise, I smiled, not knowing quite what to say.

Colonel Drewe patted my hand. ‘Excellent! I’m sure you’ll do a splendid job.’

‘Thank you,’ I said shyly. ‘I’ll be awfully pleased to be of some real help at last.’

‘Watch out for shell holes,’ Oliver put in. ‘Those roads are abysmal.’

Soon after, Archie declared it time to leave, and Oli gave me a hug. For the first time, I felt he really cared for me as his sister and not some annoying little oik that kept hanging around, so I hugged him back, and I think we both felt a little bit tearful at that moment. I know I did.

‘Look after yourself,’ Archie said, and squeezed Evie’s hand.

‘And my sister,’ Oli said to her. ‘I’m relying on you.’

I tried to dismiss the pang of jealousy at the closeness that clearly existed between Evie and Archie; the time they had known each other had been short, but strange and emotional, and it was bound to have had an effect on them. This obsession was dangerous; I had to put him out of my mind and concentrate on learning the job, so I could do the night runs alone as soon as we received our new ambulance. There was no room for distraction or mistakes.

But as Archie snugged his hat down over his dark hair, and gave me one of his warm smiles, I felt my stomach turn over with longing, and knew that if I slept tonight it would be filled with dreams that would leave me feeling empty and hopeless in the morning.

It would only be a week before my dreams would become so intense, so terrifying and so filled with horror, that empty and hopeless would have been almost like a breath of joy.