lorry and disappeared into the shadows on the far side.
By the time the first orderly reached me, I’d scrambled to my feet, alone and furiously angry in my turn.
I could have tried to pass off the attack as female fears and an overwrought imagination in the shadowy, poorly lit latrines.
Perhaps it would have been better that way. But my hair was tumbling down my back, the side of my face where I’d scraped it on something was already an angry red in the light of the torches blinding me, and the strap of my apron had been torn off the bib. There was no disguising the fact that I’d been in trouble.
Their first thought was an attempt at rape. And why should they even consider murder?
Dr. Hicks was pushing the other men aside, leaning forward to get a better look at me. He swore as he took in the damage.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he demanded, his face like a thundercloud.
“My wrist-I think it banged into the pump as I broke away. Nothing a cold compress won’t help.” In spite of the effort I’d made to get myself under control, even I could hear the shock in my voice. Nor could I do much about the fact that I must have looked like a thundercloud myself.
Everyone seemed to be there in the darkness behind the ring of torchlight. Sisters, orderlies, ambulatory patients, ambulance drivers. I quickly scanned their faces searching for-what? A stranger amongst them, anyone who could fit Matron’s description of the man who’d come looking for Sister Burrows. But of course there was no one who by any stretch of my imagination could have attacked me. There was only genuine concern for me. And by coming so quickly to my aid, they had unwittingly allowed my assailant to escape.
Dr. Hicks seemed to realize that in the same moment. He half turned to the orderlies and ambulance drivers, saying grimly, “Don’t stand there-start searching the aid station. Top to bottom. Find out who did this!”
That done, Dr. Hicks marched me off to the surgery tent to bathe and dress my face, then find a compress for my wrist where a bruise was fast turning to an ugly red.
“Did you see who it was, Sister Crawford? Can you give us any description?”
“I tried. But he came from behind, out of the shadows, and I think the candle went over as he reached for me. I didn’t even know he was there until he put his arm around my throat.” I didn’t add that his other hand had been locked in the palm of the hand suffocating me, bringing all his strength to bear on cutting off my air. He had known what he was doing, there was no doubt in my mind about that.
“Did you mark him in any way?”
“Not where it could be seen. There was no chance,” I said as he tilted my head to look at my throat. “I couldn’t have reached his face, I was nearly sure of that, but where I dug my nails into his sides, there must be marks.”
“You kept your head,” he said, nodding in approval, “but sooner or later the shock will catch up with you.”
“He must have lined up with the walking wounded, then slipped away when no one was looking.”
“Yes, that chest wound-we were so busy. It must have been then.”
The soldier had been dying from blood loss when he was brought in, and somehow, miraculously, Dr. Hicks had found the source of the bleeding and stopped it. The boy-he seemed no older than that on the stretcher-was sent straight back to the Base Hospital, with a fifty-fifty chance of surviving. We’d all applauded when Dr. Hicks had stepped back and nodded, his hands and arms covered in blood. I wouldn’t have believed it possible if I hadn’t watched it for myself.
In that moment of success, someone could have stepped out of line, walked to the latrines, and waited for me. He must have seen me clearly as I sorted the cases, but I’d been too busy to see him.
“I’ll strip every man in here if I have to. You were damn-very fortunate,” the doctor was saying to me as he considered the marks on my neck. “I won’t have this sort of thing on my watch.”
And he stormed out to do just exactly that.
But of course he didn’t find my attacker or anyone with a mark on him that would correspond to my struggle.
Soon after that, he came back to escort me to my quarters, saying only, “He’s not here. Mind you, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t. Or that he won’t come back. If not for you, then for one of the other sisters. And I’ll see that word is passed. This won’t be tolerated.”
He stood outside my tent until I was inside, and I found it comforting, despite my certainty that there wouldn’t be a repeat attack. At least not while the guard of the entire station was up.
I didn’t fall sleep for a long while. My body was still tense, the feel of that arm choking me still too fresh. Every little sound in the darkness seemed overly loud and menacing, even though I told myself to ignore it.
Where, I thought, lying there, was the “cousin” who had been sent to keep me safe?
Wherever he was, he’d nearly been too late.
Another search was made at first light, but there was no sign of my attacker. Dr. Hicks excused me from my morning shift, but I went to him and asked him to let me work. As frightening as the experience had been, I knew that I was safer and less likely to dwell on what had happened if I kept busy.
Everyone was sympathetic, and I noticed that someone was always within call, wherever I went.
But what to tell my father? And if Simon got any inkling of what had occurred, he’d be in France before the day was out, still bleeding or not.
In the end, I decided to say nothing to them. For all I knew, it had indeed been an attempt at rape, not murder.
I was walking across to my quarters that night when I heard Dr. Hicks just behind me say sharply, “Who the devil are you?”
I turned to see him challenging someone who was only a black silhouette against the faint light of the distant shelling.
“The new orderly,” the voice said. “I walked up. There wasn’t any transportation.”
“Then you’ll damned well stay there until I can take a good look at your orders.”
I knew that voice, didn’t I? But I couldn’t quite place it, for coming out of the darkness, half muffled by the big guns, I couldn’t quite make the connection. I needed more to jog my memory.
“I’ll wait until you have sorted him out,” I told Dr. Hicks, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man’s face as they repaired to the small tent where the doctors kept their paperwork and whatever medicines we had under lock and key.
But he said, “No. Wiser to go inside and leave me to deal with this.”
Nodding, I did as I was told, and as soon as I was safely in my quarters, he was gone.
The next morning Sister Clery said, “Have you met the new orderly?”
“A glimpse, nothing more.”
“Well, I can tell you he isn’t like the rest. Wait until you see for yourself.”
“More to the point, is he good at his work?”
“Wasted,” she said firmly. “Remember that hand that we thought might be turning septic? We had to take it off this morning, and Corporal Dugan was fighting us for all he was worth. Barclay held him for us until we could get the ether mask over his face-”
I didn’t hear the rest. I had placed the voice now, as well as the way the man had been standing as he spoke to Dr. Hicks.
What was Captain Barclay doing in France at a British aid station masquerading as an orderly?
CHAPTER EIGHT
I SAW HIM coming out of the canteen, a cup of tea in his hand, grimacing as he drank it without sugar or milk.
I called, “You’re the new man, are you? Barclay?”
“I’m never going to learn to like tea,” he said plaintively, approaching me.
“Sorry. It’s all we have. There’s a shortage.”
“So I’ve heard.” He glanced around, then said swiftly, “Bess. You don’t know me.” With that, he walked off.
