It is still very early to be certain, very early, but I believe that you will need a father for the child you are carrying. Her hands flew to her stomach, an involuntary protective gesture.
I have really known you only a few days, but that is long enough for me to realize that I have fallen in love with you. I would be honoured, his voice trailed off, for she was not listening to him.
Michel, she whispered. Michel's baby. I have not lost everything. I still have a part of him Centaine ate the sandwich of ham and cheese that Anna brought her with such relish that Anna examined her suspiciously.
I feel so much better now, Centaine forestalled her inquiry.
They helped feed the wounded and ready them for the day's trek. Two of their critical cases had died during the night, and the orderlies buried them hastily in shallow graves at the edge of the field and then the ambulances started up and pulled out into the main stream of traffic.
The congestion of the previous day's route had abated as the army shook itself out of mindless confusion into a semblance of order. The traffic still rolled slowly, but with fewer halts and false starts, and alongside the road they passed the rudimentary supply dumps and advanced headquarters echelons that had been set up during the night.
During one of their halts on the outskirts of a tiny village, half-concealed by trees and vineyards, Centaine made out the shapes of aircraft parked at the edge of the vineyard.
She climbed up on the running-board of the ambulance for a better view, and a flight of aircraft took off from the field and flew low over the road.
Her disappointment was intense as she realized that they were ungraceful two-seater De Havilland scouts, not the lovely SESas of Michel's squadron. She waved to them, and one of the pilots looked down at her and waved back.
. it cheered her somehow and as she returned to her selfimposed duties, she felt strong and lighthearted, and she joked with the wounded men in her accented English, and they reacted with delight. One of them called herSunshine and the name passed quickly down the line of ambulances.
Bobby Clarke stopped her as she passed. Great stuff but remember, don't overdo it.'I will be all right. Don't worry about me. I can't help it. He dropped his voice. Have you thought about my offer? When will you give me an answer? Not now, Bobby. She pronounced his name with equal emphasis on each syllable, Bob-bee, and every time she said it he lost his breath. We will talk later, but you are very gentil, very kind. Now the roadway was almost impassable once more, for the reserves were being hastened up to help hold the new line at Mort Homme. Endless columns of marching men slogged past them, and interspersed between the ranks of bobbing steel helmets were batteries of guns and lines of supply trucks loaded with all the accoutrements of war.
Their forward progress faltered, and for hours at a time the ambulances were signalled off the roadway into a field or a side lane while fresh hordes streamed past.
I'll have to send the ambulances back soon, Bobby told Centaine during one of their halts. They are needed . As soon as we can find a field hospital, I'llhand over these patients. Centaine nodded and made as if to go to the next vehicle where one of the men was calling weakly. Over here, Sunshine, can you give me a hand. Bobby caught her wrist.
Centaine, when we reach the hospital there is bound to be a chaplain there. It would only take a few minutes- She gave him her new smile, and reached up to touch his unshaven cheek with her fingertips. You are a kind man, Bobby, but Michel is the father of my son. I have thought about it, and I do not need another father. Centaine, you don't understand! What will people think? A child without a father, a young mother without a husband, what will they say? As long as I have my baby, Bobby, I don't give a, how do you say in English, I don't give them a fig! They can say what they like. I am the widow of Michel Courtney.
In the late afternoon they found the field hospital they were searching for. It was in a field outside Arras.
There were two cottage tents, emblazoned with the red crosses. These were serving as operating theatres. Rough shelters had also been hastily thrown up around them to accommodate the hundreds of wounded waiting their turns on the tables. They were built of tarpaulins over timber frames, or of corrugated iron scavenged from the surrounding farms.
Anna and Centaine helped unload their own wounded and carry them into one of the crowded shelters, then they retrieved their baggage from the roof of the leading ambulance. One of their patients noticed their preparations to leave.
You aren't going, Sunshine, are you? And hearing him, others pulled themselves up on an elbow to protest.
What are we going to do without you, luv?
She went to them for the last time, passing from one to the next with a smile and a joke, stooping to kiss their filthy, pain-contorted faces, and then at last unable to bear it any more, hurrying back to whence Anna waited for her.
They picked up the carpet bag and Anna's sack, and started along the convoy of ambulances which were being refuelled, ready to return to the battlefield.
Bobby Clarke had waited for them, and now he ran after Centaine. We are going back, orders from Major Sinclair.'Au revoir, Bobby.'I'll always remember you, Centaine. She went up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. I hope it will be a boy, he whispered.
it will be, she told him seriously. A boy, I am certain of it The convoy of ambulances trundled away, back into the north, and Bobby Clarke waved and shouted something that she did not catch, as they were carried away on the river of marching men and lumbering equipment.
What do we do now? Anna asked.
We go on, Centaine told her. Somehow, subtly she had taken charge, and Anna, increasingly indecisive with each mile between her and Mort Homme, plodded after her. They left the sprawling hospital area and turned southwards once again into the crowded roadway.
Ahead of them over the trees Centaine could make out the roofs and spires of the town of Arras against the fading evening sky.
Look, Anna! she pointed. There is the evening star we are allowed a wish. What is yours? Anna looked at her curiously. What had come over the child2 She had seen her father burned to death and her favourite animal
