“Is he, by God!” His attitude warmed considerably. “Tell me what you need, Sister, and I’ll see that you get it.”
I thanked him and went out. The port was cluttered and crowded. I managed to find the line of huts. They turned out to be temporary housing for any number of offices associated with the smooth running of the port. Number seventeen, set to one side of the rest, had a soldier on guard by the door.
With a sinking heart, I walked up to the soldier, a grizzled veteran with a decided limp, and told him I’d been asked to take a look at his charge.
“I don’t think it’s safe, Sister,” he warned me. “He’s right barmy, is that one.”
“I’ve handled worse cases. They seem to respond to the uniform,” I said pleasantly.
With some reluctance, he stood aside. “I’ll stay within call,” he promised.
I went to the door. It was, to my surprise, unlocked. I walked in as the first late rays of winter sun rose over the horizon and sent a shaft of light across the gray Channel to wash the drab, salt-stained huts a pale gold.
At first I couldn’t see anyone in the dark interior. And then as my eyes grew accustomed to the shadows, I saw that there were two cots in the room, and a bucket on the floor between them. Nothing else.
“Sergeant? Sergeant Larimore?” I said, and immediately the prone figure on one of the cots shot up with an oath.
“Sister,” he answered in a low, hoarse voice. “Great God, woman, I’d given you up.” He stood, and the light of the rising sun caught him full in the face.
I gasped. He was burned, just as the Captain had said, his face raw, his eyebrows all but gone, his hair shorter in front than in the back. His blue hospital uniform was torn, stained with God knew what, and scorched.
“What happened to you?” I asked, appalled.
“We haven’t time to talk. You must get me out of here, it’s-just trust me, and I’ll tell you everything,” he pleaded in a hoarse whisper.
“But you’re in Dover-how did you get here? What have you done?”
“Never mind that. I’ve told them I had a head wound, I’m out of my mind. Just play along, Sister, and help me. For God’s sake.”
I had two choices: to go along with whatever it was he wanted to do or to turn him over to the authorities as a deserter. And if I did that, he would be shot.
I said, exasperation clear in my voice as I spoke loud enough to reach the sentry outside, “Sergeant. I told you I must go to England. Not you. Didn’t you understand? I can’t help you here, you should have stayed with Sister Barlow. She’s a good nurse. And none of this would have happened.”
A grin split his thin, tired face. But his voice was humble as he answered, “Sister, please help me. My head hurts something terrible, I can’t think straight. You told me you’d see me right. That’s why I came looking for you.”
“It’s a wonder you haven’t fallen ill of pneumonia. Oh, very well, Sergeant. Come along and I’ll do what I can. But give me any trouble and I’ll turn you in to the nearest soldier.”
I pushed at the door, and the guard took two quick steps out of its way as it swung open. I could tell he’d been listening. But he asked, “Everything all right, Sister?”
“Yes, he’s not clear in his mind. I’ll find a doctor and see about returning him to France.”
“Shall I go with you? He don’t appear dangerous to me, but you never know.” He looked Sergeant Larimore up and down. The Sergeant managed a lunatic grin. “He’s a big ’un, and it’s the quiet ones that go off their heads when you least expect it.”
“He’s too ill to hurt a fly,” I scoffed. “You may report that I take full responsibility.” Then turning to Sergeant Larimore at my heels, I said, “See what you’ve got me into. And don’t make that ridiculous noise again. This way.”
“Yes, Sister,” he replied meekly.
In single file we walked back down the row of huts, and then out through the port gates, no one stopping us, although I saw several faces turned our way, curiosity writ large. I couldn’t help but think that it would take all the Colonel Sahib’s authority to save me if this went wrong.
But the Sergeant loped behind me, head hung in contrition, looking like a lost soul in need of resurrection.
When we’d cleared the gates and were some one hundred paces farther along, he caught me up, saying in a very different tone of voice, “You must come with me. Quickly.”
“Where?”
“Not here.” We walked on into the town, avoiding the foot traffic and all the lorries that had finished unloading their cargo on the ships, their drivers looking now for breakfast before making the long drive back to London. We passed half a dozen officers who nodded to me and then looked askance at the man trailing me.
“Sergeant. We ought to get off the streets. I have a motorcar-”
“That hotel on the far corner. Do you see it?”
I did. A seedy hotel favored by ships’ crews and with something of an unsavory reputation.
“That’s where we’re heading.”
We covered the distance without mishap, and he led me in the door.
The woman behind the desk, her eyes sharp and knowing, said, “Hold on, I’ll have none of that here.”
I said in my best imitation of Matron, “We’ve come to fetch the Sergeant’s things. He’s ill, he ought to be in hospital.”
She turned her gaze to his face. “Anything catching?”
“I don’t know. The sooner he’s examined, the better. Now will you let us pass?”
She nodded, adding, “Just get him out of my hotel quick as may be.”
We climbed stairs tracked with muddy footprints.
“It was the best I could do,” he said softly. “They wouldn’t let me through the door of a decent place. Not like this.”
“I understand.”
We walked down a passage with bare floorboards and ill-painted doors to either side. Sergeant Larimore stopped at one of them, dug in his pocket for the key, and unlocked the door. “I’ll go first,” he said, and I let him, not knowing what lay ahead.
But it was only an empty room, the bedclothes a-tumble.
“There was a fire,” he said, turning to look at me. “Half the houses went up in flames. After you left, I’d been keeping an eye on Rue St. Catherine whenever I could slip out of hospital, and I was one of the first on the scene. I rescued as many people as I could before the roofs started to come down. Dry as tinder, those old houses, in spite of the rain we’ve had.”
I was watching his face, dawning horror drying up my throat.
“The nuns-did you see the nuns?” I couldn’t say anything else.
“They got out safely. I saw the elderly one. Her robes were singed about as bad as my uniform, but she was looking after her charges.”
“They made it out safely?” I asked. “All of them?”
“All of them. Only I got away with one of them.” He walked to the tumble of bedclothes, and I realized with something like shock that a small child was asleep in the cocoon of sheets.
I went to the bedside myself, gently pulled a corner of a coverlet away, and a strand of fair hair, bright as sunlight in the dingy room, caught in my fingers.
“Sergeant-you didn’t-you kidnapped her! The nuns will think she burned in the fire. They-they’ll be distraught!”
“It was the only chance to get her out of there,” he said, his voice still hoarse. “The house is rubble. What was I to do? Leave her to the French authorities to decide her future? Not likely! You would never find her again.”
It was so like Sergeant Larimore to have acted on the spur of the moment, when the opportunity came his way, knowing I was gravely concerned about this child’s fate. I couldn’t fault him-and yet I was horrified by the decision he’d made. What on earth was I to do about this?
He’d listened to every word I’d said about her, that was clear enough, and he remembered everything I’d told him about myself, or he’d never have known how to contact my mother. I couldn’t help but be amazed as well as shocked. He was the most extraordinary man.
He stood there while I took it all in, giving me time to come to terms with all that he’d just related to me.
