“No, thank you. I’ll see her shortly for breakfast.” Gertrude shuffled into a sitting position, picked up the small teapot and poured herself a cup of tea, hoping it would cure her headache.
“Right, then. I’ll be back shortly with your morning reviver.” The portly woman hurried out and Gertrude sank back into the pillows.
But it was a lovely night. The meal was scrumptious, the music divine and the young man playing the trumpet had followed her every move. It had been such a shame to leave when they did, but Wilz had other plans and Gertrude had no option but to fall in with her. After all, if it wasn’t for her dear sister being as kind as she had, none of what had transpired that day would have been more than a wish in her mind.
Now Ernest was going to sign the papers and hopefully she would have them back today or tomorrow. She couldn’t quite remember what he said about that. Her attention had been taken up with the trumpeter in the band and she missed quite a lot of the conversation over dinner while she was in her own little world of dreams.
The tea cleared the awful furry sensation from her mouth and she sipped slowly, savouring every single mouthful before pouring a second cup. She gazed around the room. Used to luxury, she had a fleeting moment to wonder if sleeping in a tent would be such a hardship. She’d seen film clips of the Red Cross nurses going about their duties and they didn’t seem to be suffering too badly from the harsh conditions.
Besides, wasn’t it time she got out and spread her wings? So what if she wouldn’t have anyone to bring her tea in bed in the morning. She was more than capable of making her own, wasn’t she? Surely Mrs. Humphries could teach her how to manage that. Gertie doubted she would be able to cook a meal, but she was going to nurse, not cater for the soldiers. They would have a mess tent to take care of that. Nobody would starve.
She imagined leaving behind her clothes, her silken undergarments and jewellery. They wouldn’t be needed in her job. A watch would come in handy but that would be it. Could she walk away from everything she’d known? Gertie ran her hand over the lovely warm blanket and imagined grey wool, prickly and serviceable against her skin instead. She shuddered at the thought but quickly pulled herself together. She was being precious.
If she was to be a nurse, she’d have to say goodbye to these trappings of luxury. If it was good enough for the soldiers to do it hard, it was good enough for her, Gertrude Wallace, to do her bit.
Gertie sipped the last of her tea and debated another cup. She lifted the teapot and found it empty. That sorted that idea out, then. Time to get up and dress and go and see what her sister was up to.
When she was ready, Gertrude left her room, hurried down the hallway and tapped on her sister’s bedroom door. “Come in.” She twisted the handle and pushed the door open, stepped inside and closed it behind her. Wilz lay against the pillows, one arm thrown up over her head and the blankets down at her waist. Her nightgown was askew, showing more skin than seemly, but it was the marks on her sister’s collarbone that caught her attention.
“What on earth is that?”
Wilz lifted her hand and touched the fading light bruise marks under her shoulder strap that trailed down to her right breast. She opened her eyes and smiled. “Don’t be shocked, little sister, lover’s bite’s they’re called I believe. You’ll find out about the way the world is sooner or later. Especially since you’re going to join the Red Cross.”
With a smirk, she rolled over in bed and reached for her bedside table. Her fingers gripped an envelope and she tossed it to the end of her bed where Gertrude stood stunned.
“Here you are, my darling. It’s all yours, freedom from Papa courtesy of dear cousin Ernest.”
Gertrude reached for it but kept her gaze on her sister. She swallowed before she glanced at the paperwork, determined not to do or say the wrong thing in light of what Wilz had done for her. She unfolded the pages and checked the signature at the bottom. J. J. Wallace. He’d done as he said he would, but the signature wasn’t his. He’d forged Papa’s signature.
Her heart palpitated and she sank down on the bed, her throat closing over with emotion.
“Told you I’d get it, didn’t I?” Wilz closed her eyes and sighed.
“I thought he would sign his own name, not Papa’s.” The enormity of what he’d done struck her hard. “If I get caught with this forgery …”
“Forget it. Who’s going to check it, and anyway we decided that it would look better with Papa’s signature on it instead of Ernest’s. Really, darling, you shouldn’t worry. You got what you wanted and now you have to use it to your advantage. I won’t hear of anything less.” Wilz lifted herself up on one elbow. Her nightgown slipped over one breast, exposing most of her nipple, and Gertrude blushed, looking away.
“Oh don’t be such a prude, my darling. We’re modern women now, hardly stuck in the dark ages. Surely you know all about your body and sex? Mama would have told you, I know she would have.”
Gertrude stiffened her back, casting sidelong glances at her. “Of course she did. But I didn’t expect, I mean to say, I didn’t think that you …”
“You didn’t expect to find out I had a lover, is that it?” Wilz sat up and rearranged her nightgown, her fingers caressing the mark on her skin almost reverently. “Why do you think I took over mother’s duties so happily? Who in their right mind would
