‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘You can confide anything to me. You have your own sadness, I know that. To lose both your mother and your father… That must be with you constantly. But I sense there’s something else. Something that eats away at you.’
‘I’m actually happier than I’ve been in a long time,’ she said. ‘But… at the same time, yes, there is something. Sometimes… Oh Robert!’ she blurted. ‘Sometimes I think I’m completely mad.’
‘Whatever makes you think that?’
She could only look at the ground. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You’re aren’t mad at all,’ he said, reaching for her hand. ‘Quite the opposite. You’re wise and wonderful – and in fact the most sane and rational thing in my whole, utterly absurd life.’
She sighed deeply.
‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Won’t you tell me? I should like to be able to help you, like you’ve helped me.’
‘You do help me,’ she said. ‘In more ways than you can ever know.’
Clearly understanding that she didn’t wish to pursue the topic he said no more, and they fell into silence. Then:
‘Would you read to me?’ he asked. Feeling in his dressing gown pocket he produced a book: Peter Pan and Wendy. ‘Edgar sent it,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it’s just what we both need – a children’s story.’
Louisa took it and began to read. After ten minutes or so, she stopped. His breathing had become slow and regular; he was asleep. And he looked so peaceful – childlike almost, the furrow between his brows softer, all adult cares washed away. Was that what Robert was, a lost boy? Just like in Peter Pan? And all the other soldiers on the front lawn too, their youth stolen from them by self-serving adults? And what was she? What part did she play in it all? She honestly didn’t know. All she knew was that she had somehow become a character in a fairy tale too.
There was a flash of yellow and a bird landed on a rock in the middle of the stream. It was beautiful, with a bright-yellow underside, a grey head and wings, and a long tail. She’d never seen one like it before. It looked at her, its head cocked to one side, as if it could somehow tell there was something wrong about her. Then it flew off. In the distance she heard the hoarse, rasping cry of a pheasant.
Hopefully, this time they’d come far enough into the forest that no nurse would follow. How awful if one of those girls in the blue uniform came crashing through the trees right now. Robert had told her they were VADs – young women from largely well-to-do families who’d volunteered to be auxiliary nurses in military hospitals for an organisation called the Voluntary Aid Detachment.
Louisa lay down. The sun was warm on her face and the sounds of the birds and the flowing water mingled to create a beautiful, hypnotic refrain. She closed her eyes. The swaying branches made patterns of light and shade behind her eyelids. Was this, she wondered, suppressing a yawn, how Robert saw the world?
She awoke, expecting to find herself back in the ruined hospital wing – but saw with happiness that Robert was still lying next to her, so close that she could feel his breath across her face. She lay still, not wanting to break the spell. It was turning to evening, the shadows gathering, the woods becoming blue-grey, the trueness of the different outlines and hues merging into a darkening mass.
Then, from somewhere beyond, came a crack, like a whip. First one, then another, loud and sudden. Before she knew what was happening, Robert was up on his hands and knees, scrabbling in the dirt, frantically turning his head left and right, as if he’d forgotten that he couldn’t see. From his reaction she immediately realised the sound must be gunshot.
‘Robert!’ she said. ‘It’s all right!’
He pushed her roughly to the ground, then felt for something at his right side as he struggled to his feet.
‘We must get under cover! We’re completely exposed! For God’s sake, where’s my revolver?’
‘It’s all right,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘We’re in the forest at Coldbrook Hall, remember? We’ve just come for a walk.’
He kept trying to drag her away, his fingers digging into her arm.
‘Robert, please, you’re hurting me!’
That finally seemed to reach him, and he sunk to the ground, his face cloaked in pain.
‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
Another gunshot cracked out and he jolted so much she thought, for a second, he’d actually been hit.
‘You should stay away from me,’ he said ferociously. ‘I’m not right in the damned head. I’m the one who’s insane, not you.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Touching his arm first so that he’d know where she was, she moved closer and put her arms around him as he knelt there on the ground. She felt his heart slam against her, and even as she wanted more than anything to comfort him, the feel of him against her took her breath away.
‘I’m so sorry for you, Robert,’ she said. ‘After all you’ve been through. I can’t believe there are people firing guns nearby.’
‘No one is supposed to fire a gun anywhere near the hospital,’ he said fiercely. ‘It’s strictly prohibited.’ He leant back on his heels and rubbed a hand across his face. ‘Probably the farmer shooting at a fox.’ She saw that he was crying. ‘I don’t think I can ever be normal again,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘The war has made me a wreck. Really, Louisa, you ought to run as far as you possibly can from me and never turn back. That’s what most people would do.’
‘Well, I’m not most people,’ she said.
‘No,’ he said after a moment, ‘you most certainly are not. You’re quite singular. And I’m not worthy of you.’
‘It’s actually completely the other way around.’
Another gunshot fired out and he flinched. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. She helped him up and they started back.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The next few weeks went by in an agony of longing and frustration. First the outdoor smoking terrace flooded and was designated out of bounds, then a new nursing assistant was put in charge of cigarette breaks. Instead of opening the door and disappearing back inside, he stayed outside with them on the terrace, chain-smoking. Louisa hated his presence so much she was surprised he couldn’t feel her eyes burning two holes into his back.